


No regrets

by RocioWrites



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 03:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1673354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RocioWrites/pseuds/RocioWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Alcohol CW] Fuck everything because they’re so damaged. And still they’re pretty perfect for each other in this unconventional, almost dysfunctional way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No regrets

**Author's Note:**

> ALCOHOL CONSUMPTION CONTENT WARNING

Written for the [Criminal Minds Prompt Meme on LJ](http://cmpromptmeme.livejournal.com/). [Round Six: Free for all](http://cmpromptmeme.livejournal.com/2361.html?thread=258873#t258873).

Prompt: Morgan/Hotch, “Don’t do anything you’ll regret”.

(N/A: Set somewhere post-Foyet and pre-Beth jsyk)

*

It’s late and there’s no moon visible in the sky, the clouds are heavy with the rain that hasn’t fallen yet. Clooney is a bit scared so he hides in the laundry room barely making any sound. Morgan is too tired for playing games and Hotch looks so defiant that hurts, they don’t want to fight. _It doesn’t stop them anyway._

Morgan thinks briefly of Jack and is so grateful that Jess has him till tomorrow morning. He misses him but watching Hotch drink yet another glass of scotch proves it’s for the best. There’s no place for half meanings or anything else. It’s just the truth and the silence and everything is so goddamn messed up. No place for guessing or stepping the wrong path. Hotch seems like he’s out of himself. Again. And all Morgan can do is worry and be ready.

“Do you want some?” Hotch shows off his glass and offers it but Morgan shakes his head, sitting on the other couch. He watches and waits. It’s a routine and here he is, another night. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

No loving words and no kisses. These kind of nights are about Hotch. And Morgan feels worse and worse as the time goes by. At least, when he has his nights out of himself there’s no alcohol involved.

Those glassy eyes fix on him and Morgan represses a shudder. Tie long gone and the perfect hair isn’t perfect anymore. Morgan wants to go to sleep and kiss Hotch goodnight. Wants to make everything better.

“Talk to me Aaron.” The use of his first name makes him watch Morgan more intensely.

“There’s nothing to talk about. Another case, another serial killer caught.”

There’s plenty to talk about, Morgan knows it. He can mention all the blonde women who were victims and were the right age to make Hotch think about Haley. He can mention how the UnSub stabbed them and left them in the middle of their houses for the husbands or kids to find them. He can mention how all this anger is bottled up inside Hotch, how all this guilt lives inside him. He can talk and talk for hours and still there will be things left to say. Hotch won’t appreciate it, but that doesn’t make it less of a truth.

“Just talk to me. Really. You need to be okay for when Jack sees you.”

And that does it. Not sure what comes first though, the crash or the rain. The crashing of the glass it’s soundless compared to the intense rain that starts falling. Finally Hotch’s eyes are alive again, full of emotion and for a moment Morgan sees a flash of every feeling Hotch has.  _Anger, sadness, rage, hurt, loneliness, cold fury_. The little pieces of glass rest on the floor and the light bulbs flicker once when a lightning falls somewhere not that far away.

“Jack won’t see anything wrong. I’m fine.”

“Aaron, please. Don’t be so fucking stubborn.”

“Jack won’t see anything wrong.” He insists and gets up, picking up the big pieces. Morgan just watches him sighing, this is so hard. Hotch is so untrusting.  _Just like you_  a little voice in his head supplies. However, what really surprises him is the way Hotch just leaves all the pieces on the floor and goes for another glass to fill.

And sits on the same couch, just some inches away from the broken glass. It’s weird and somehow it worries Morgan more than it should.

“Anger and alcohol aren’t a good mix, you know?” The words slip from his lips before he can think about them. Hotch glares at him, and his lips become a thin line on his face. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s the truth.” The lights flicker again and this time two lightnings come in quick succession.

“I’m not mixing anything. Just leave me alone.” It’s the hurt talking, it’s the void inside of Hotch’s chest talking, he knows. And still, it stings so bad.

“Fuck you man, fuck you and your stubbornness. Why don’t you let me help you? Why don’t you just say you’re upset, you’re angry?”

“I am NONE of those things!” Hotch's voice is as loud and icy as the rain outside. “I have NOTHING to say so just shut up.”

Morgan’s right eyebrow rises and he silently asks ‘ _Are you serious? Can’t you see?_ ’. Hotch takes a shaky breath, the hand holding the glass is shivering as the rest of his body does the same. It’s anger bottled up, just like Morgan knows it is.

“C’mon.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He repeats and drinks until the glass is empty again.

“You’re an angry drunk. Don’t need this right now.” Morgan murmurs, standing up to finally clean the mess and to put away the pieces on the floor.

Hotch doesn’t get himself more scotch, and sure as hell won’t ask Morgan for another. It’s silent except for the rain and the occasional lightning, the wind blowing against the doors and windows. Morgan is right and it hurts and he can’t say it out loud.

“You should go to sleep, then. Go to bed.”

“I can’t. Even if I tell you not to do anything you’ll regret, while this drunk you will probably end up doing something really stupid. Like hurting yourself. Or burning the house down.” And he shows his point by watching the broken glass suspiciously.

“Wow, thank you for babysitting me Derek.” It’s sarcasms and Hotch sounds so serious that’s almost impossible to tell this is meant as a joke. A bad one, one that aims to hurt Morgan’s feelings but a joke nonetheless.

“You’re welcome, you asshole.” Hotch half snorts half laughs, this dry and drunk sound that’s probably a good sign. He can’t help a smile and makes sure Hotch sees it. “You really need me in your life, who else would babysit you huh? Who?”

“Oh shut up, I can take care of myself and you know it.”

“Of course you can. That’s why I run after you cleaning up your mess.” And he goes to the kitchen to finally throw the broken pieces away. “You are lucky to have me.” He screams from the other room, waiting for some reply that never comes.

“Indeed, I am.” Hotch finally answers as soon as Morgan appears on the living room door. Eyes too glassy, voice filled with something indiscernible. It’s cruel how they’re left to deal with so much shit just for some bad decisions others have made. “I’m so lucky to have you.” Hoch goes from angry drunk to melancholic drunk.

And that makes it. Fuck everything because they’re so damaged. And still they’re pretty perfect for each other in this unconventional, almost dysfunctional way.

“I’m sorry Derek.” He whispers softly, leaving the empty glass on the floor. “I don’t want to talk about this. And I’m sorry.” Suddenly he’s laughing again, a dark and broken cacophony. And it breaks Morgan’s heart.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” It’s not but it really doesn’t matter. The laugh ends abruptly and Hotch’s shoulders are still shaking. He’s crying. “C’mon. Let’s get you in bed.”

Hotch nods weakly and waits for Morgan to help him stand. It’s all that bottled up anger that leaves Hotch so feeble.

“You know it’s not true right?” He starts and Morgan watches him curiously while trying to get them both as quickly as possible into the bedroom. “You are the one doing something you will regret.” Morgan arches an eyebrow and it’s all the encouragement Hotch needs. “You’re wasting your time on me.”


End file.
